Serendipity
by brandstifterin
Summary: It's the morning after the night before... but what actually happened isn't quite what they thought. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Holby City, let alone any of the characters. I am only borrowing them and will grudgingly return them when I am done.**

**Warning****: Sounds ominous, doesn't it! Nothing serious just that this is really ****not to be taken too seriously, it's a slight departure from what I'd normally write and is quite light-hearted. There will be five chapters and they're mostly written already so it shouldn't be too long between updates, please let me know what you like, what you don't like; I've never written anything like this before so am a little nervous about posting it. **

**Author's Note****: This story starts off some time in the future at a conference (where else?) and is most certainly a case of 'what happens at the conference, stays at the conference'. Just remember that all is not as it first seems. The idea for this hit me a little while ago whilst reading a chapter of 'Pretense' by katielex (if you haven't read the story yet, go check it out!) and only recently have I gotten around to writing it. This is admittedly a ridiculous situation, I had an absolute ball writing this and hope you enjoy it as much as I am. I've tried to keep the characters as 'in character' as possible but you may need a pinch of salt for the odd bit. For some reason, I can't see this ever happening on the show.**

**Big thanks to hadrians77 for her input :-)**

**Last but not least: Enjoy. **

* * *

"Serendipity is the gift of finding things that we did not know we were looking for."

Glauco Ortolano

* * *

Serena wakes up slowly, savouring the opportunity to drift towards consciousness rather than the usual frantic rush, started by her alarm clock shrieking at her. As soon as she reaches a certain level of consciousness, she groans.

There is a rave going on all over her skull and she feels like her head is about to fall off, certain that it would if not for the pillow – she has the mother of all hangovers. She groans again, not daring to open her eyes just yet. She lies there, aware that her body seems to hurt and that no part of her has escaped unscathed from this hangover.

Serena gently rolls over, suddenly becoming aware that she feels quite nauseated by the movement and she takes a few moments to wait for the feeling to pass, whimpering lightly. She opens an eye but instantly shuts it, the early morning light too painful.

Her brain hurts but eventually, with a bit of effort, she realises what she thought she saw and with a frown she opens her eyes again, ignoring the pain lancing through her temples.

There is a chest at eye level.

A moment of squinting confirms her theory. A man's chest. A naked man's chest. She blinks a couple of times to refocus her eyes, looking at the light dusting of black hair and she follows it down over the defined ribcage, pausing to look at a clearly visible puckered scar on the pale, flat stomach which continued on under the white duvet. She frowns, staring at the body next to her, it doesn't look like her husband's torso, his skin was darker and he was never this thin.

"Oh God." She shakes her head a little to clear it, realising too late what a mistake that is. The resulting pain dissolves at a faster rate than before and Serena sluggishly thinks that she may yet survive this hangover.

Her gaze still on the spot where the body next to her is covered by the duvet, Serena realises that she is staring and she slowly drags her gaze back up to the chest that she had woken up next to before remembering that it can't be her husband – she isn't married any more and she looks up to see whose head is attached to the body and she suddenly wishes that this hangover could be fatal after all.

It's Hanssen.

A still and silent Henrik Hanssen, a very naked Henrik Hanssen. Serena feels a wave of panic sweep over her and she slams her eyes shut again, counting to ten before opening them again, hoping that the scene she has just witnessed is a hangover-induced hallucination.

It isn't.

Serena cracks open an eye apprehensively but he is still lying there, she'd reluctantly admit under duress that she has an attraction to the man, 'but what woman doesn't?' she thinks furiously, 'Christ, you can almost smell the oestrogen when he does ward rounds in that waistcoat'.

He is lying on his back, one hand resting on his side, the elegant fingers splayed over his prominent ribs and Serena stares at them, thinking that he is 'far too thin'. Her gaze jumps back to his face, more relaxed in sleep before it trails back down his body and Serena absent-mindedly names the muscles as she goes.

'Pectoralis Major, Serratus Anterior, Obliquus Externus.' She labels them as her eyes move back down Hanssen's body and suddenly realises what she is doing. She looks away, the rest of the room jerkily coming into view, she starts at the bottom and notes the clothes-strewn floor, noting the style of the walls and ceiling as typical of the budget accommodation that the hospital accountants tend to use before her brain re-engages and catches up.

Clothes-strewn floor.

She tenses slightly, looking back to the floor. Unless Hanssen has taken to cross dressing, then approximately half of the clothing and underwear that she can see are...

'Fucking hell', she stiffens, looking from the clothes on the hotel room floor to herself, despite being covered by the duvet, it is obvious that she is also naked. She is in bed with Henrik Hanssen; she is naked in bed with an equally naked Henrik Hanssen, with only a duvet covering her body; the same duvet which is covering Hanssen's naked body. About a hundred thoughts flash through her mind, the most prominent is that she is never touching another drop of alcohol again as long as she lives.

"Oh God."

She shoots him another uncertain look, Hanssen hasn't as much as moved in the time that Serena has been awake. She wants to make sure he hasn't died, he has a couple of nasty looking bruises on him. It's only when she is almost hovering over him, that she can see his chest rise and fall infinitesimally. She breathes in and catches a trace of his aftershave, just at that moment, his eyes open, locking onto Serena and she shrieks, jerking back.

* * *

Hanssen wakes almost instantly, moving from sleep to consciousness as years of being 'on call' have conditioned him to do. He tenses as he realises that it wasn't his pager, phone or alarm which has woken him but a softly uttered, "oh God."

Hanssen looks up into the surprised brown eyes of Serena Campbell, wincing as he hears her shriek as she jerks away from him. He shakes his head to try and focus his eyes, only to find that a full orchestra is currently playing in his head. He winces again at the pain that reverberates around his skull and blinks a couple of times, looking around him.

He looks around the room that they are in, realising that they are in his hotel room, to his relief, before he notes the state of the bed and of their two bodies, gulping as he realises that they are both naked. An awkward silence reigns.

'What happened last night?' Hanssen wonders to himself, his head hurts with the effort of trying to recall the night's events. Hanssen wonders if this is a dream, he is certain he is hungover, the pain in his head would attest to that, all he has are fragments and impressions of last night. His whole body aches, various bruises, cuts and twinges making themselves known to him each time he breathes. He winces as he moves, he feels like his back has been positively clawed. He exhales suddenly, feeling his stomach drop and arousal surge and he shifts a little, hoping that Serena won't notice the way he raises his knees a little as his brain states the obvious.

Naked.

Clawed.

Serena Campbell.

It's beyond bad enough that he has woken up naked in a hotel room with a colleague, but to wake up with Serena Campbell, the bane of his professional existence and source of his carefully ignored personal temptation. He turns back to face her, she is still stunned, not having moved since he woke up, still staring at him like she had seen a ghost. He takes a deep breath and attempts to gather his courage.

"Err, Ms. Campbell," his voice rasps. 'Serena'? He wonders, not having any idea what the correct form of address is in this situation. She had briefly looked away from him, to something on the floor but at his words she turns back around to face him and the sheet she had been clutching slips a little. He's not been so tongue-tied around a woman since the fateful night that he suddenly realised that Maja was very much female. "You're going to lose your duvet."

* * *

"Err, Ms. Campbell," a gravelly voice says and it gets her attention, she turns back around to face her boss, trying to ignore the fact that he is completely naked under this duvet that they are sharing. "You're going to lose your duvet."

It takes a moment for his words to permeate the fog in her mind but when they do, she makes a peculiar high-pitched sound and uses both hands to drag the duvet back up to her shoulders, conscious of the way that his eyes unconsciously stray to the skin she had been showing. She feels a slight resistance as she jerks her right hand from under the duvet and it takes her aching head a moment to realise that Hanssen's hand has followed hers and is hovering dangerously close to her chest.

She stares at the metal implement binding her to the Director of Surgery, she chances a quick look at said Director of Surgery to find him also intently staring at their wrists and a bandage wrapped around his lower arm. Not a bandage – his white dress shirt, it makes sense that he couldn't remove it with the handcuff in place; Serena tenses again when she realises that she doesn't have her own shirt wrapped around her wrist, instead she spots it on the hotel room floor, not far from the bed.

Not only has she woken up in bed with the Swede, but they're both naked and handcuffed to one another and of all the questions flying around her head, there is only one she is able to voice.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?"

"I think you'll find Ms, Campbell, that this is _my_ room."

"Oh hell." She sits up, simultaneously trying to keep herself covered as well as look around the room and she splutters as she realises that he is quite correct, this is _his_ room. "What the hell happened last night?"

"I was rather hoping you would tell me, Ms. Campbell." She looks at Hanssen is askance but his focus is still captured by their cuffed wrists. She tugs her arm slightly to get his attention and he elaborates as he briefly looks at her, "I'm afraid I don't remember much of the evening."

She sighs, "me either." All she has is vague impressions. "How did we end up like this?" She didn't realise that she'd asked the question out loud until Hanssen answers her a moment later, looking understandably uncomfortable.

"Providing the obvious answer to your question would seem quite unnecessary, given our current situation."

"Oh for crying out loud-"

"_This_ isn't how I usually wake up, Ms. Campbell." He raises his hand and hers follows as if she could have forgotten and her anger deflates at the reminder that she isn't the only one affected by the situation they've found themselves in.

"Serena." He frowns and she sighs, "call me Serena. Considering the situation and all..."

"Serena." He mimics and she isn't sure that she's ever heard him say her given name. "I really don't remember."

"I don't remember either." She sighs, falling back against the pillow, making sure the duvet covers as much of her as possible, as an awkward silence threatens to reign once more. She is having trouble processing the situation, first of all, she is in bed and handcuffed to Henrik Hanssen and secondly, no - she's having enough trouble dealing with that first point on its own.

She looks at the man half lying on his side next to her out of the corner of her eye, he is once more staring at their wrists and Serena rolls her eyes, deciding that she'll have to take charge of the current situation if they are ever going to get out of it, at the rate he is going, if it was left to Hanssen, the hotel cleaners would find their dead bodies in a couple of days.

"Seriously though, how did we wind up in this situation?"

"Well, the evidence would point to us-"

"Getting horrendously drunk and managing to handcuff ourselves together, then coming back to your room and fucking like rabbits all night?" Serena slams her mouth shut, throwing her free hand over her face in horror, she hadn't meant to voice the sarcastic internal thoughts and wishes that the ground would swallow her up, never to be seen again.

"Well," Hanssen starts, clearly uncomfortable as a red flush colours his cheeks, "that would certainly be one way of putting it."

'I've made Mr. Hanssen blush', Serena thinks distractedly, desperately avoiding looking at his face. "It, err, it would seem to fit the evidence," she gestures at them weakly, "that we, err, that we-"

"Fucked like rabbits all night?" Hanssen dryly comments and Serena's embarrassment reaches new heights.

"If that is the case, I seem to have done rather well for myself..." His voice trails off as he shifts a little, moving closer to her and, "it's a distinct improvement to the last time I was handcuffed."

Serena stops thinking about when Hanssen could possibly have been handcuffed before and she stares as Hanssen's face lowers towards hers and she keeps her gaze fixed on his mouth, she's wondered what it would be like to kiss the mouth that lets insults fly so readily and whether he tastes as sharp as the tongue he wields so effectively.

"Wait." He pauses at her whisper and she can feel his breath against her face, all she would need to do is tilt her head fractionally... she shakes her head mentally.

"This isn't right, I don't think we did anything like this last night."

"And how do you conclude that, Ms... Serena?" She blinks a couple of times, trying to pull her gaze away from Hanssen's mouth and focus on what she had been about to say to him.

"Because if we had, I sure as hell would have made sure I remembered it, Henrik."

* * *

**Drop me a little line, let me know what you think :-)**

**Second chapter soon :-) **


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you all so much for the wonderful reception you gave the first chapter – I was quite nervous about how it would be received but I needn't have worried; you're all amazing and thank you :-D**

* * *

"Self-preservation is the first law of nature."

Samuel Butler

* * *

Chapter 2.

"_Because if we had, I sure as hell would have made sure I remembered it, Henrik." _

Serena's comment stops Hanssen short for a moment and he blinks at her as he pulled back an inch and looks at her almost as if she was speaking another language and he is painstakingly translating each word in his mind. 'To be fair', Serena tells herself, 'he probably _is_ translating each word', he would hardly have expected such a declaration from his Executive Director of Surgery or sidekick or whatever the hell her title is given their usual fractious interactions.

After a few seconds, just enough time for Serena to begin to think that her comment wasn't such a good idea after all, Hanssen's face relaxes and he closes the distance between them again and if she wasn't so distracted by the imminent kiss, she would probably want to slap the smirk he's wearing right off his face

* * *

Hanssen blinks at her a couple of times after her comment, the words stopping him short for a moment. He pauses, making sure that he heard her correctly and after an indeterminable amount of time, Hanssen decides he has heard Serena correctly. He stares at her for a second, his eyes trailing down to the duvet she is determined to keep pinned to her chest and back up to her mouth.

He tilts his head to kiss her, aware that because of the metal cuffs, his left hand is perilously close to her chest as he props himself up on an elbow. He traces her jaw with his free right hand and feels her run her free hand up his arm, across his shoulder and down his back, urging him closer to her.

Her fingernails rake the skin softly and they catch some of the scratches and Hanssen pulls back, breath catching at the stinging sensation. It isn't much but it is enough for reality to return to him and he pulls away abruptly, remembering where he is and with whom.

"We should endeavour to get changed and out of this situation as quickly as possible," Hanssen comments, conveniently ignoring the kiss they very nearly shared as he moves back to his side of the bed.

Serena agrees but neither of them make any attempt to move, both aware of the obvious problem facing them. Hanssen is glancing between the clothes-strewn floor and their location on the bed, attempting to determine the most efficient method of dressing which will still allow both of them to keep the last tatters of their dignity.

"Pardon?" Hanssen asks, aware that Serena had spoken but he hadn't been paying complete attention to what she said and he turns to face her, consciously trying not to let his eyes wander.

"Give me the duvet," Hanssen frowns, he thought he had misheard her the first time, apparently not.

Hanssen shoots Serena an incredulous look as if to say 'are you serious?' which doesn't seem to affect her and he nearly reminds her of the way she was trying to pull him onto her a minute ago, but the glare Serena sends him stops him from mentioning the incident. Hanssen swallows, looking away – he has no intention of leaving himself so exposed just to satisfy Serena's unnecessary demands.

"I think not," he informs her, "I am confident that we can achieve our aims without unnecessary exposure." The glare Serena sends him makes him squirm a little and he resigns himself to probably conceding part of the duvet to her.

"Unnecessary exposure?" Serena mimics, sounding stunned by Hanssen's refusal but he isn't looking at her; Hanssen doesn't have his glasses on and so his vision isn't clear but he squints at something which has caught his attention at the end of the bed.

Leaning forward, Hanssen can determine that it isn't part of the duvet and he reaches out his free right arm and picks up the item, bringing it closer until suddenly embarrassed, he is able to identify it as Serena's bra. Certain that he is blushing, Hanssen holds it up for Serena to collect.

"Yours I believe." He states, desperately trying to sound casual as Serena snatches the item out of his hand. Serena's forced tone of voice indicates that her embarrassment likely rivals his as she mutters her thanks.

Unable to look at his Executive Director of Surgery, Hanssen looks away and spots his own underwear on the floor close to the bed and without thinking he automatically reaches over to pick them up; a slight resistance and a yelp are his first reminders that he'd forgotten to take the handcuffs into account and had tugged Serena off balance and towards him.

"My apologies, Ms... Serena," he apologises hearing her huff in response as Hanssen continues to try and reach his discarded clothing; part of him frowns at the thought of wearing the same underwear as the previous day but he has no way of getting to his suitcase and resigns himself. He is about two or three inches short and resorts to waggling his fingertips without success. He sighs, annoyed as he collapses back onto the mattress in defeat.

"A little notice next time would be appreciated," Serena sarcastically comments and Hanssen rolls his eyes but gets an idea and after a quick glance at his bedmate, he turns away from her and slides a leg out from under the duvet and uses his foot to hook his underwear to him.

Wordlessly, they both begin the process of dressing themselves, determinedly not looking at the other. While Hanssen is wrestling with his underwear one-handedly, Serena is fiddling with her bra using both hands and he is conscious of every time his hand brushes against smooth skin and he refuses to allow himself to contemplate what part of her he's accidentally touching. Somehow he manages to finish before Serena does and half-turns, ready to avert his gaze if necessary.

"Let me." He can see that Serena is struggling with the strap and reaches out to help her, assuming that she quietly gasps because his hands are cold.

"Christ on a crutch!" Hanssen had turned away but at Serena's exclamation turns back around to face her. "Your back is scratched to pieces." She states, reaching out a hand to brush over them, making Hanssen flinch at the unexpected contact. "Why do I feel like I should be apologising to you?"

"What do you remember?" He deflects, not wanting to linger on the possibility that Serena _is_ responsible for the scratches on his back – neither of them appear to be able to remember the way they spent their night and Hanssen doesn't know whether it's more or less troubling; he can't imagine for a moment that innocent nights end up with one naked and handcuffed to a colleague.

"What do _you_ remember?" She parrots back at him and Hanssen sighs; he has vague impressions of the night but he admits to himself that they could be dreams rather than reality.

"Nothing of any use." To stop Serena from asking about what he might remember, he changes the subject.

"The majority of our clothing appears to be at the far end of the bed," Hanssen tells her in a matter-of-fact tone and is confused by the smirk that Serena is attempting to suppress and he suddenly feel self-conscious at her amusement as his expense.

"Get that kicked puppy look off your face," she lays a warm hand on his forearm and he glances at it before looking back up at her face, "I just never thought I'd hear Henrik Hanssen say something like that."

After a bit of awkward shuffling, both of them make it to the end of the bed and between them begin to locate their errant clothing. Hanssen remembers that his dress shirt is bunched around his left elbow and scowls to himself at its wrinkled state as he buttons it up with one hand.

"Don't look" He rolls his eyes at Serena's unnecessary comment but turns away, sitting on the edge of the bed, from his new vantage point, he can see the way his clothes have mixed with hers on the hotel room floor.

"What's the time?" Hanssen automatically looks to his wrist where his watch should be but only the silver handcuff stares back and him and he cranes his neck to look at the alarm clock next to the bed.

"07:45." He answers, "however, considering the drinking habits of some of the surgeons in attendance, I doubt any absences at breakfast will be considered significant."

"We are beyond lucky that Michael didn't return here last night." Serena comments as she looks around the floor, obviously trying to determine the location of her clothing.

"The period of breakfast is our best window of opportunity." He ignores her previous point about the American, not wanting to contemplate what would have happened had Michael Spence come back to find the hospital's two most senior consultants in the state they found themselves in this morning. 'Then again', Hanssen thinks, 'the man would probably have expired from shock on the spot and solved that particular issue'.

"Window of opportunity for what exactly?" He looks at her in askance, thinking that surely it's obvious enough. When she mimics his expression, Hanssen elaborates.

"I have some tools in my car boot which should allow us to break the chains connecting the handcuffs."

"Oh, of course you do," the sarcasm is thick in her response and he remains silent and she sighs. "Ok, I'll bite, why do you have tools in your car?"

"Why _don't_ you?" She strikes him as a relatively practical and logical woman and it doesn't seem particularly far-fetched considering that Sahira kept a screwdriver in her car.

"Can't say _I've_ ever been in this situation before." The sarcasm in her voice has returned full force.

"This is first for me, also." He is a little perturbed by the idea that she could possibly think otherwise about him. His soft confession seems to deflate her a little.

"Henrik, are you sure you weren't a girl guide?"

"Quite sure." He answers with a small smile, recalling their odd conversation back in March, around the time that Serena's mother had the stroke. "Besides, we need to finish getting changed before our luck turns and Mr. Spence returns." He doesn't know how long it has been since they woke up but he is really quite uncomfortable with any further delay.

* * *

The mention of Michael Spence's likely return seems to galvanise Serena and she tells Hanssen to close his eyes; when he obliges, she throws the rest of the duvet at him, not certain whether he has recovered any of his clothes yet. With a little trouble and a lot of muttered cursing, Serena left-handedly dresses herself until she is completely dressed except for her once long-sleeved light blue over-shirt and she had stared at it, biting her lip before shrugging the remains of it on.

The right arm has been torn to get it off her and Serena isn't sure _why_ it has been torn, Hanssen's shirt remained intact overnight, she shoots the Swede a suspicious look before shaking her head at the ridiculousness of her thoughts.

She picks up the rest of his clothes, the habit formed after living with her ex-husband and Eleanor for years, musing that her hair probably looks a sight and she is thankful she couldn't be bothered with any make up last night or she'd be looking like someone from one of Eleanor's metal music bands right now.

"Are you done?" Hanssen is still sat on the edge of the bed, eyes shut and part of the duvet wrapped over his waist, legs sticking out from underneath and she takes a moment to stare at him, the way she wouldn't dream of while they were at work. Hanssen is not conventionally handsome but certainly attractive, Serena's eyes are drawn back to the scar on his torso and wonders how he got it. "Serena?"

"Sure." She tells him, hoping she isn't blushing at the way she'd been staring at him and his lips quirk, eyes obviously amused as he catches sight of her.

"A new look for you, Serena." As his eyes dance over her body and land on the torn blouse.

"It's not one I wish to repeat." She tells him, eyebrow arched. "Besides, you are in no position to speak, Henrik." She looks pointedly at him and he inclines his head, accepting her point.

Serena surreptitiously watches Hanssen quickly put on the remainder of his clothing and she finds his glasses lying under his suit jacket to his relief. By the time that he is done, they've missed breakfast but Serena isn't too bothered, it's not the first time she'll have missed a meal and doubts it will be for Hanssen either, not that they should think about eating until they are separated.

Running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame the bits she can feel sticking up, she catches sight of Hanssen shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking almost embarrassed and Serena can't work out why, considering that they are now clothed again. "What?"

"I find myself..." He trails off and opens and closes his mouth a couple more times before looking down at his shoes and confessing. "I need to use the toilet." Serena is certain that Hanssen would probably find her expression to be priceless if he wasn't as equally embarrassed.

"What?" She croaks, praying that she misheard him but he merely raises an eyebrow.

"I assume you do not need a full explanation?" She throws him a filthy look, once more wishing that her hangover had been fatal and wonders what she could possibly have done in a previous life to merit this morning's torture.

Serena steals Michael's toothbrush, using the opportunity to turn the tap on in an attempt not to think about Hanssen stood next to her.

"Do you...?" He gestures at the toilet.

"I think I'll wait." She tells him and he sheepishly nods.

* * *

They have just exited the bathroom, when there is an unmistakable sound of someone fumbling with with electronic door lock to the room. After a minute or so it opens and Serena has just managed to step forward between Hanssen and the door so that the American who stumbles into the room is unaware of the metal binding her to the Director of Surgery and the precarious state of her shirt sleeve under her long cardigan.

Michael stops short as he sees the two of them stood there before he shrugs and plasters a grin on his face, greeting them cheerfully, seemingly unperturbed to see both of them. Serena rather thinks that it is Michael's blood-shot eyes and his almost certain hangover which is the main reason for not questioning Serena's presence in Hanssen's room early in the morning.

He dives into the bathroom and Serena and Hanssen exchange a look of relief and exit the hotel room awkwardly, unused to the restrictions placed on them by the handcuffs. Serena's spirits sink and it isn't until they are half-way down the corridor that she voices her concerns.

"Jac isn't going to be easy to fob off like Michael is; she is going to want to know why I wasn't in our room last night. What should we say?" He thinks for a moment as they carry on walking and Serena notes his usual graceful gait has been replaced with something a little more awkward to accommodate Serena.

"She is speaking this morning, no?" Hanssen asks and Serena nods in confirmation. "Then we merely avoid her and the whole subject." Serena sighs.

"I doubt that will work, it'll probably be the first thing she says when she sees me..." Serena sounds resigned, even to her own ears.

"Then let us ensure that-"

"Oh Jesus." Serena curses and she feels Hanssen tug slightly on their binding as he turns, obviously wondering if she has seen someone. "Jac is presenting this morning but I am speaking this afternoon." She raises her right hand in a reminder, just enough for Hanssen's to follow suit, "and we can't still be like this then," she hisses as they reach the lift.

"Perhaps we should take the stairs." Hanssen says suddenly and having no option but to trust his judgement, Serena allows herself to be led down the stairs. He stops just before they get to the ground floor, "what time is your presentation?"

"One thirty."

"I have every confidence that we will be separated by then, Ms. Campbell." She appreciates the attempt at reassuring her and pretends not to notice the way he has reverted back to a more formal method of address with her now they are clothed again.

He leans across her to open the door and they stride across the hotel, hidden in plain view amongst the other delegates milling around in the foyer. Moving around a particularly loud group of surgeons, Hanssen and Serena head towards the main door. Hanssen's posture is rigid next to her and she appreciates how much he must hate the enforced closeness the handcuffs are subjecting them to.

They realise their mistake at the same moment, less than nine feet away from making it outside the hotel, they come face-to-face with Jac Naylor who is entering the hotel and she stops them. Serena brushes the outside of her hand against Hanssen's for reassurance, her heart-rate going through the roof and she tries to consciously suppress the activity of her adrenal gland, all too aware of the adrenaline entering her system.

"Good morning, Ms. Naylor," Hanssen greets her first and Serena admires the way his voice remains steady and doesn't betray any of the uncertainty or anxiety he must surely be feeling. "All ready for your presentation this morning?"

"Absolutely." The red-headed consultant looks to Serena and frowns. She tries not to panic, even realising that this is probably the moment that it all falls apart and she can't hear anything over the sound of blood rushing through her ears. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I, err, have a bit of a headache this morning." Jac smirks at Serena's answer and she wonders if Hanssen's appreciates the double-meaning.

"And of course it isn't alcohol-related in any way."

"I may have had a glass of wine or two last night," she replies and hears Hanssen snort lightly, casually looking around the room. She looks up at him but he doesn't meet her gaze and she thinks that this exchange is going better than they could have hoped. "Anyway, we were going to-"

"Watch my presentation and the hall is over this way, come on." Jac turns and Serena shares a look of panic with Hanssen which he returns and he then shrugs, as if to suggest, 'what other option do we have?'

"Hurry up," Jac instructs them, turning around and seeing that neither Serena or Hanssen had moved and sharing one more look, they reluctantly follow Jac into the conference room.

* * *

**Things start to be explained in the next chapter; of course that is assuming they manage to escape the conference room without Jac or Michael seeing them...! And Serena only has a couple of hours until her presentation...!**

**Drop me a line, let me know what you think :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Did you hear that!? It's the sound of the plot thickening!**

**Thank you all for your lovely reviews and follows, they make my day and encourage me to write quicker too.**

**Hope you're all well and having a lovely Easter! Enjoy. **

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"No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible."

Voltaire

* * *

Chapter 3.

Hanssen and Serena reluctantly follow Jac into the conference room and Hanssen feels like he is walking into a trap, the urge to drag his feet is strong. Jac immediately heads off to another group of surgeons to his relief and he imagines that Serena is feeling similarly relieved.

"We could make a run for it," he hears Serena mutter to him, "and she wouldn't know."

"No," as tempting as the idea is, he knows they can't. "Ms. Naylor will almost certainly demand your feedback on her presentation."

"But you've seen it, you can talk to her about it." He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand, she has made a good point but with the way their day is progressing, Jac will ask an obscure question and the game will be up.

"Which is why she will ask you. We have already averted the necessity of possible explanations for our... _situation_ once," he explains, not entirely certain of the appropriate word, "I do not believe it wise to tempt fate again so soon, we are just going to have to sit through Ms. Naylor's presentation." He wants the cuffs gone as much as Serena but it will just have to wait a bit. He turns, glaring at the doctor who has just bumped into him and slapped him on the back in apology.

"At least the Jac Naylor show is first up," Serena comments and Hanssen silently agrees. With the first presentation slot about to begin, the room is starting to fill up; they couldn't leave without drawing attention to themselves by leaving the room against the flow of traffic; they're standing out enough as it is by not sitting down.

They manage to find two seats next to one another at the back, away from everyone else for the moment and a concerned organiser approaches them, making her way over to see if they'd prefer to sit closer. Both Serena and Hanssen glare at her and the woman mumbles something and leaves, muttering under her breath about stuck-up doctors.

"What?" Serena's hissed exclamation draws Hanssen out of his thoughts and he raises an eyebrow at her, requesting an explanation. His spirits sink as she informs him that, "the session chairman has just swapped Jac's presentation to second to accommodate a Professor Murphy. We're going to be stuck here all fucking day at this rate." Hanssen doesn't pull her up on her swearing, silently agreeing with her angry assessment of the situation, he glances to the right only to find that a doctor has taken a seat further along and blocked their escape.

He forcefully exhales his frustration; he had no particular interest in this doctor's presentation and had in fact earmarked it as one to avoid when he'd been given the presentation timetable upon arrival at the conference yesterday afternoon. Hanssen had worked with Murphy before, had sat through his rambling senior consultant meetings and ten minutes into the presentation concludes that the man hasn't improved in the four years since Hanssen last worked with him and if anything, has become worse – loving the sound of his own voice.

Hanssen himself is not presenting, his attendance is linked to an informal approach to one of the other attendees, an oncologist. A meeting he had arranged for this afternoon, around the same time as Serena's presentation. He glances at his watch, the instrument feeling out of place on his right wrist instead of its usual place on his left wrist, trying to calculate how long they'll have between leaving this room and Serena's presentation to try and separate themselves.

'Not long enough', he concludes worriedly.

Eventually, Murphy's presentation is over and in the five minutes between the Q&A section of the first presentation and the start of the second, the room begins to fill further; Jac's presentation about her Japanese procedure is well-attended and Hanssen's tenses as attendees continue to enter the room, but he is thankful that they are pretty much left alone, hidden at the back of the once-more darkened room.

Jac begins her presentation on time, the focus on her work in Japan back at the start of the year and although Hanssen knows that in reality, it is progressing at an acceptable speed, he cant help but wonder if she's been taking lessons from Elliot Hope – her allotted 45 minutes seems to be dragging. A couple of times Serena had kicked him, to stop him fidgeting nervously, drawing the attention of the surgeon sitting a few seats down from them.

As soon as they are able to, Serena and Hanssen rise and stride out of the stuffy room into the cooler foyer of the hotel, heading towards the main entrance and then Hanssen's car, sat in the hotel car park.

"Ms. Campbell." Hanssen has to tug Serena slightly when she stops in the middle of the foyer, looking at a second conference room.

"This way." Making their way out of the hotel, across the tarmac car park, Serena pulls Hanssen sharply in the opposite direction to his car, the metal of the handcuffs biting into his wrist. He is about to stop dead and demand an explanation when she points to a bakery over the road. "I've missed breakfast and I'm probably going to miss lunch as well." She tersely informs him and Hanssen gets the impression that Serena has the possibility of becoming emotional when hungry and choosing not to risk provoking her, he remains silent until they return to his car, speaking only to order a croissant.

Instructing Serena to hold the paper bags containing their breakfast, Hanssen is unaware of her gaze on him when he bends over to rummage around one-handedly in a box in his car boot.

"We're going to have to go somewhere private to get these things off – we can't do it here." Hanssen doesn't answer immediately, having reached the same conclusion as Serena had – Serena would have to climb over to the passenger seat from the driver's side, probably giving Hanssen an eyeful in the process that will replay itself at the most inconvenient moments for months.

Suddenly remembering Serena's distraction as they were leaving the hotel, he gladly changes the subject. "Why did you stop in the foyer?" It takes her a moment to realise what he is talking about.

"I remembered part of last night..."

"What about it?" His tone is casual but he is listening closely.

"We were in that room off to the side – welcome drinks," she explains and Hanssen continues rummaging in his car boot, finally finding the screwdriver he'd been searching for.

"_You_ took me out to dinner!" She exclaims and Hanssen stands up, hitting his head on the corner of the car boot and wincing. His headache from this morning had begun to abate but it is threatening to return and he grimaces.

"Hey, it isn't _that_ bad," Serena exclaims mistaking his reaction and begins to explain.

* * *

Serena looks around the room and sighs, she has just declined an enthusiastic invitation to dance from a surgeon who can't be any older than Arthur Digby, Keller's hapless F1. She is glad that Ric isn't here to be amused at her misfortune, with a glare and a sharp retort, she had sent the young man back to the group he came from with his tail between his legs. Serena can see that Jac Naylor is part of the group and was smirking as the scene unfolded and she huffs to herself, thinking that the red-headed consultant probably put the younger surgeon up to asking her.

This is the part of attending conferences that she hates, under the guise of 'Welcome Drinks and Food', delegates are 'encouraged to network' and although Serena is never going to turn her nose up at a free bar, the evening is rapidly becoming tedious.

She is annoyed by the compulsory attendance at this evening's event and she scowls into her glass when she realises that it's empty. Dumping the empty glass onto a nearby table, she makes her way through the throng of surgeons and tables to the bar and catches sight of Michael Spence, who by all appearances is trying his best to chat up a brunette who is way out of his league. Serena smiles to herself at Michael's tenacity and she silently wishes him luck, he'd had a tough time at the start of the year, missing his children out in Florida.

Holby had sent four delegates to the two-day long event in Manchester, a representative of each of the main wards; Michael Spence was here for AAU, Jac Naylor was representing Darwin, Serena was here on behalf of Keller and as Serena reaches the bar, her eyes land on the fourth member of their party, the big cheese himself, Henrik Hanssen. He is sitting on his own and Serena impulsively asks the barman for a second glass of red wine, she doesn't know if Hanssen drinks but she figures that if he doesn't like it, she can have it.

Serena makes her way around a couple of tables to the one in the far corner where Hanssen is sat and his head snaps up to face her as she approaches. She plasters a polite smile to her face hurriedly, trying to mask the typical reaction to seeing the enigmatic Swede. She sees his eyebrow raise as he realises that she has a wine glass in each hand and she holds one out for him as she takes the seat next to him and his eyes narrow suspiciously at the offering.

"Cheers," Serena says pointedly and Hanssen automatically raises his glass to clink against hers. She takes a sip and looks back out to the room, aware that Hanssen almost certainly does not want her there with him, their relationship still cool after his sabbatical at the end of last year.

Her eyes land back on Michael Spence, the American still persevering and she turns to comment to Hanssen and notices that he hasn't touched his drink, "oh for Heaven's sake, it's not poisoned. Live a little!" He frowns at her from behind his glasses but obediently takes a sup and she smiles at him, "much better."

Hanssen blinks at her, his expression unchanged and Serena gets the feeling that the small action is the equivalent of her daughter rolling her eyes.

"You were about to say something, I believe, Ms. Campbell?" Serena struggles to recall for a moment.

"Yes. Don't you think Michael is punching a tad above his weight?" Serena watches Hanssen's eyes leave her and seek out the American consultant, she keeps her gaze on the Swede's face, surprised when he frowns.

"What's wrong?" Serena asks, following his line of vision but is unable to determine what has troubled him.

"Mr. Spence's latest..." Hanssen starts, obviously searching for a word.

"Attempt?" Serena offers, perhaps a little unkindly but is gratified to see Hanssen's lips quirk.

"Attempt," he repeats and looks at Serena, amusement in his eyes, "bears more than a passing resemblance to Dr. Lulu Hutchinson." Hanssen states but Serena doesn't know the woman.

"Who is she?" She watches the amusement fade from Hanssen's eyes.

"An F1, most likely now an F2 that Mr. Spence had an... association with," Serena can't help but smirk at Hanssen's ever-formal language, "she is also Sir Fraser Anderson's daughter."

"Oh," Serena suddenly understands _what_ Hanssen means and she looks back over to the American.

"Quite." Hanssen confirms and they lapse into silence until Serena realises that her glass is once more empty.

"Do you want another drink?" Hanssen shrugs and Serena takes the action as a 'yes'. She waits until she is sat down again before asking, "are you going to say anything to Michael?"

"I suspect an opportunity will not present itself tonight," he comments dryly and Serena smirks. Due to budget restrictions, Michael and Hanssen were sharing a room and Jac and Serena were sharing the other room.

"On the plus side, it means you have your room to yourself tonight." She observes and Hanssen nods and Serena thinks that the man is more pleased at his close escape than he is letting on. They lapse back into a comfortable silence and Serena realises that she is content in the Swede's presence for possibly the first time. "You know, a benefit to sitting here with you is that nobody is going to talk to us or ask me to dance or anything equally embarrassing."

"Nice to know my life hasn't been wasted and that I am of some use to someone." Serena glances at him, his expression looks serious but his tone is light and she doesn't often get to see Hanssen's sense of humour. A short while later Serena realises that her glass is empty again and she is fed up with the evening, it's only just gone seven pm and is threatening to drag.

"What do you say we blow this popsicle stand?" She suggests and gets a blank look in return.

"I have no idea what you mean, Ms. Campbell." Serena finds his answer funny and she suspects that the three glasses of wine she's had have something to do with that.

"Most of the time I forget you're Swedish," he looks away and Serena frowns, she never found out what happened in Stockholm and Jac remained tight-lipped about the whole affair. "Anyway, it means 'do you want to escape'?" He remains silent and Serena knows he's torn.

"They won't miss us and we've made an appearance. Besides, I'm starving."

"Dinner was only an hour and a half ago, Ms. Campbell." Serena sees him checking his watch.

"Well, I didn't have any, it didn't look appetising and I should probably eat something and not have this alcohol on an empty stomach." She might have had a couple of drinks but even less than sober she can usually manipulate people into doing what she wants and her appeal to Hanssen's sensible nature appears to be working.

"The whole hotel is dedicated to this conference, someone will undoubtedly notice us in the restaurant." He points out and Serena knows she's got him.

"Then let's leave the hotel, grab some food and come back later when this lot are too intoxicated to notice." She plucks his empty glass out of his hand, placing it on the table next to hers and with a last uncertain look at her as he rises, Serena sees him debate with himself before conceding and he places a hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the room and towards their freedom.

* * *

"So we left the hotel," he frowns a little in concentration, Hanssen does remember the tedious welcome drinks event and for most of the evening he'd managed to avoid speaking to anyone until Serena sat herself down next to him.

"We should return to my room," Hanssen tells her as he locks his car once more, "it would be-"

"If it's all the same, Mr. Hanssen," Serena cuts him off and he tries to ignore the flare of annoyance at her predictable interruption. "I'd rather not." Taking a calming breath, Hanssen attempts to explain his reasoning, all too aware that they don't have the time available to start arguing.

"Mr. Spence is presenting in approximately half an hour and is unlikely to be in our room whereas now Ms. Naylor is done, she may return to your room at any moment." Serena grumbles but concedes.

A quick check reveals that Michael Spence had been and gone, leaving a wet towel on the bathroom floor which annoys Hanssen and he picks it up out of habit, throwing it over the top of the shower rail in disgust at the American's habits.

Realising that the only place for them to sit is back on the bed, Hanssen awkwardly gestures for her to take a seat and Hanssen pulls out the screwdriver from his pocket before he sits down; he doesn't fancy impaling himself and then having to attempt to explain the situation to a paramedic or another doctor – he'd rather bleed to death.

"Do you remember what happened after we left the hotel," he asks, mostly in an attempt to avoid thinking about her leg against his or the way her hand brushes his as he manoeuvres and manipulates the cuffs, as he tries to find the best angle to begin trying to break them. Hanssen moves away in an attempt to maintain an appropriate amount of space between them, he purses his lips in frustration as the bed dips, moving them closer to one another again and he avoids looking at her.

* * *

They'd managed to leave the noisy 'Welcome Drinks' event without anyone asking any questions or bumping into anyone they knew and Serena hopes that neither Michael Spence or Jac Naylor saw the Director of Surgery and the Executive Director of Surgery sneaking out together or the rumour mill at Holby would work itself into a seizure by the end of the weekend.

Once across the foyer and out into the dark night, Serena relaxes and somehow knows that Hanssen has done the same without looking at him.

"Freedom," she comments happily and hears Hanssen snort softly beside her.

"Rather a temporary stay of execution, Ms. Campbell – we have yet to return undetected."

"Spoilsport," she mutters, just loud enough for him to hear but careful to make sure that he knows he is being teased by her tone.

"A speciality of mine as you are no doubt already aware." Serena, uncertain how to respond to the self-deprecating comment, elects for silence.

It isn't the warmest of evenings, it isn't winter in Manchester but there is definitely a chill in the air and Serena tugs her long cardigan around her, feeling under dressed as they continue on down the street, passing a couple of pubs and restaurants already starting to fill this early on a week-night.

After nearly twenty minutes of walking away from the hotel, they walk past a Thai restaurant and Serena belatedly realises that Hanssen is no longer with her and she retraces the dozen steps or so until she is stood next to him.

"Not quite sushi but close enough, 'eh?" He shoots her a look which Serena thinks is meant to be chastising but she just laughs and pulls him in the door with her, grasping his hand and misses the expression on his face.

They'd had a lovely meal, Serena was forced to admit, for such a reserved man, Hanssen was able to keep her laughing with him dry observations and impressions, she finds his gentle impressions of Sacha Levy and Terrance Cunningham excellent and laughing, she thinks that it is something she would never have guessed of him. She is unable to remember the last time she laughed so consistently and genuinely in an evening.

Hanssen manages to pay for the meal by distracting her with what she later realised was a deliberately inflammatory statement designed to provoke and distract her.

It had worked.

"But it was my idea!" She protests as soon as she realises what he has done.

"Are you quite done?" he asks and stunned, Serena shuts up."Besides Ms. Campbell, you devised our escape so I paid for the meal," he informed her with what she thought was a slightly smug look as they'd collected their coats, Hanssen's suit jacket and Serena's long cardigan and she'd scolded him for his tactic again as they left the restaurant.

* * *

Realising that Hanssen was unrepentant for paying for their meal, she hadn't said anything further but had shaken her head in mock annoyance before smiling and surprising him by threading an arm through his as they turned and headed back towards their hotel. Normally one for avoiding physical contact, Hanssen surprised himself by allowing her hand to remain on his forearm as they wandered back down the road in a companionable silence.

Hanssen was glad for the way the evening had gone, when Serena had first suggested leaving the hotel, he'd been reluctant at best and suspicious at worst as to the woman's motives. However, his concerns had been mostly addressed by her exclamation and expression of relief once they had escaped into the cool evening air.

He'd been surprised by her obvious desire to escape from the opportunity to mingle in favour of willingly spending any extra time with him and had told her as much when he judged that she was relaxed enough not to take offence. She'd given him a mischievous smile.

"Is it so unbelievable that someone might want to spend some time with you?" Hanssen had frowned a little, not wanting to admit that 'yes, it _is_ so unbelievable' to her. Also a little wary as to where she might then take the conversation, Hanssen had promptly changed the subject.

Serena had stopped, interrupting his train of thought and was peering into a shop window which held no attraction for him but as neither of them were in any rush to get back to the hotel and to their likely overly-intoxicated colleagues, he made no effort to hurry her along.

Instead, Hanssen took the opportunity to study Serena, the soft light of the street lamp much more flattering than the usual harsh hospital lighting he usually saw her with.

"Did anything catch your attention?" He'd asked politely a few minutes later as she turns away from the shop window.

"Maybe," she answers cryptically, ready to continue their slow return to the hotel.

Heading past one of the pubs that they had seen earlier in the evening, Hanssen feels Serena's fingers tighten momentarily around his arm in response to several crude comments shouted by a couple of smokers stood outside and Hanssen glares at them on her behalf, pleased when they fall silent.

Just past the pub, Serena had tugged on his arm and guided him around the corner, Hanssen, thinking that Serena had seen another shop she wanted to look at, had complied.

She stops a few yards into the side street and Hanssen glances around in confusion, he can't see any shops, just a couple of industrial-sized wheelie bins for the pub's use and beyond them, a row of houses leading into what looks like a housing estate.

"Why-" Turning to ask Serena for an explanation as to why she had stopped them here, Hanssen is almost pulled off-balance by her.

Reflexively, he plants a hand against the wall, above her head to stop himself from colliding with her and he looks down at her in confusion. Serena draws her arms up around his neck and Hanssen swallows nervously as he realises what she wants.

He would be a liar if he said he wasn't drawn to her, her fiery nature a surprisingly attractive contrast to his own reserved approach and unlike Sahira, Serena didn't feel the need to remind everyone. Since his return to Holby at the start of the year, Hanssen had repeatedly told himself that it was curiosity and not attraction that he felt. Certain that whatever it was was not reciprocated, Hanssen had deliberately maintained a cool working relationship with his Executive Director of Surgery.

Apparently he'd been spectacularly wrong.

"I..." he swallows, putting his spare hand tentatively on her hip, "this is almost certainly inadvisable." His conscience sparks to life, aware that he should be maintaining some sense of professionalism.

"Almost certainly," Serena agrees, tangling her fingers in his hair, "but it's what I want," and Hanssen, ignoring the alarm bells ringing in his head, throws all caution to the wind and draws her mouth to his.

* * *

**Things get interesting very quickly from here :-)**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: A little more is explained...**

**Thank you all for your wonderful reviews so far, I'm so glad you're all enjoying this. **

* * *

"Mistakes are the portals of discovery."

James Joyce

* * *

Chapter 4.

"_This is almost certainly inadvisable."_

"_Almost certainly. But it's what I want."_

Their lips brush when suddenly Hanssen jerks back and not wanting him to change his mind, Serena attempts to pull him back towards her when she is made aware of several voices closing in on them, drunkenly cat-calling and asking Hanssen if they can 'have a go' with his 'bird'.

Serena had tensed when she realised that the voices were those of the drunken smokers from the pub they have just walked past.

* * *

"I wanted to swear at the jumped-up little shits," Hanssen raises his eyebrow at Serena's unexpected coarse language, "and tell them that I'm no-one's _bird_." He finds his lips quirking as he begins to recall the scene and he turns away from her to face out of the window.

"Indeed." He comments blandly, desperately trying to sound nonchalant rather than he's about to snigger like a schoolboy at her indignation, guessing that she wouldn't be afraid to swing for him if she catches him.

"Well, anyway," she continues and to his relief doesn't appear to have picked up on his amusement or is choosing to ignore it if she has, "there was a bit of posturing and then a scuffle broke out." Hanssen frowns.

"I see. However, that in itself does not explain why I feel like I've been hit rather than hungover, aside from the expected headache and mild sensitivity to light, there is a curious lack of nausea or indeed..." he's halfway through listing the symptoms he is not experiencing when he realises that Serena wants to say something.

"Err, you were hit over the head." She explains and Hanssen nods, thinking the explanation makes more sense - he'd had a small amount of wine, not enough to cause the headache he'd experienced this morning, "I think I owe you an apology."

"It's not necessary to apologise because I was hit by those men." He states, not quite sure why she would feel the need to apologise for the actions of some drunken men, he was hardly going to stand aside and let them approach her.

"Err, no," she gulps and looks down to her lap, her voice quiet and Hanssen has to strain to hear her. "It was me – I hit you."

"You hit me, Ms. Campbell!?" The shock is clear in his tone, he wasn't expecting that answer. The look that she is wearing would be almost comical if she obviously wasn't feeling so guilty. He glares at her, expecting a very good reason for her actions.

"I thought you were one of them," she explains hurriedly, recalling how she had felt a man's hand clasp her upper arm and the anger, crossed with fear had combined and she'd lashed out. She explained to Hanssen how she had picked up the nearest item and swung it at her would-be attacker only to realise it was Hanssen when he went down like a sack of spuds. She tries to defend herself by adding, "I missed!"

"Apparently not," Hanssen comments, his hand rubbing his skull and finding a bump that he wasn't aware of before. "You hit me," he repeats, recalling taking a sharp blow to the head, he looks back at her, almost amused at the way she is blushing.

"Well, I didn't have anything sharp on me."

"Just as well," Hanssen observes dryly, "or you might have stabbed me."

"I would never-" He watches her slam her mouth shut, huffing as she realises that he is teasing her and he can almost see her thoughts as her eyes narrow at him: 'of all the times for the man to display a sense of humour'. He quirks his lips at her and is glad to see a small smile on her face in return.

"I do remember bits of that," he confesses with a small sigh, "but also some flashing lights." He isn't certain about that, unsure whether his mind is recalling an actual event or allowing his imagination to run riot.

"Ah," Hanssen's eyes narrow at Serena's tone, certain that he isn't going to like what he is about to hear. "_That_ is when things began to get really interesting."

Hanssen swallows, uncertain at _how_ the events could have possibly become 'really interesting'.

* * *

Just after Serena had walloped Hanssen with something heavy, the Police had turned up to do a random drugs raid on the pub, had seen the four of them brawling and arrested them all, leaving two officers with them as the rest went into the pub to carry out the raid.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Serena tells the policeman as he goes back over to his colleague as they wait for the drugs raid to be completed.

"Why didn't you tell him that we are doctors, Ms. Campbell?" Hanssen asks from his position half-stood on the floor, leaning against the edge of the building for support.

Despite the blow he'd taken, Hanssen is already starting to look less woozy; she'd hit him quite hard and it was with relief that she'd seen the flashing blue lights and the police run over to break up the fight. With Hanssen incapacitated on the floor, Serena had been quite outnumbered but her relief had quickly turned to anxiety when two policemen had bundled over their two would-be assailants and a third had arrested both Serena and Hanssen too, her agitated plea of self-defence falling on the deaf ears of the policeman.

It looked as though Hanssen wasn't going anywhere in a hurry, the man was clearly dazed from the blow he'd taken to the head and the policeman, realising that Serena and Hanssen were together had handcuffed them together, Serena had taken her cardigan off to wrap around Hanssen's shoulders, in addition to his jacket.

Believing that Hanssen was about to tell the policeman who they were, Serena hisses at him to be quiet and not to tell them anything. He nodded but Serena doesn't believe he understood why.

Serena waits until the policeman is definitely out of hearing range before she replies. "Oh and maybe I should tell him we're the Director of Surgery and Executive Director while I'm at it?" Hanssen shrugs, still a little woozy and Serena hisses quietly, "your position is hardly secure and I'm not flavour of the month with Cunningham either; neither of us need this kind of attention now, if ever." 'And an arrest record for brawling in the street never looks good on the CV', she adds silently.

Serena doesn't want to contemplate the fall-out should news of the two most senior consultants' arrest – by a drugs raid squad no less – make its way back to Holby and to the hospital's board. Neither of them needed this becoming public news.

Hanssen had nodded again, looking less woozy than before, to Serena's relief and they spend an anxious couple of minutes wondering how they are going to get out of this situation, desperately searching for favours that she could call in before discarding them, rapidly running out of options. "Okay." He mumbles and Serena wonders if hitting him over the head in future to gain his compliance is a tactic that she can get away with – the man is much more agreeable when he is probably concussed.

He shivers a little in the cool air and Serena tucks her cardigan around him in an attempt to keep him warm, ignoring her own discomfort at the falling temperature. She doesn't know if Hanssen is aware that it was her who hit him rather than their two drunken assailants who are still remonstrating loudly with the policemen.

Just then the pub door opens and two more men are escorted by police onto the street and immediately begin to taunt Hanssen and Serena's attackers. Her attention drawn by them, Serena can't help but lament their idiotic choice to get involved with drugs but almost immediately she is forced to concede that at the moment, she is in no position to take the moral high ground. When their assailants begin to retaliate to the taunting, necessitating suppression by the police, Serena spots an opportunity and she hopes they won't regret it.

"Get up!" Serena hisses at Hanssen and after two tugs on his wrist, using the handcuffs, he complies, rising unsteadily to his feet and doing his best impression of a six foot plus newborn calf on wobbly legs. Taking her cardigan off his shoulders, Serena ties it around her waist.

Looking back down the road to the fifteen feet or so away where the police are still trying to subdue the fighting men, Serena grabs Hanssen's hand, ignoring his flinch and tugs him in the opposite direction. His footsteps become more sure as they move away, attempting to slip unnoticed into the darkness of the cool. Suddenly a shout goes out and Serena, glancing over her shoulder whilst still urging Hanssen on sees that their attempted disappearance has been noted.

"Run!" She instructs Hanssen as a policeman begins to give chase. Diving to their left, down an alley and into a housing estate, Serena hopes they've had enough of a head start to escape. "This way," she huffs and Hanssen complies, briefly thinking that 'if any of their colleagues could see them now, they'd die laughing'.

Taking another road, Serena realises that they have run into a cul-de-sac and is about to give up when Hanssen's hand, still grasping her tugs her down a small alley between two houses that she hadn't seen and through a gate into a garden.

Serena has no idea where they are and she hopes that Hanssen's sense of direction is good, because even stone cold sober, hers is decidedly suspect and if she is in charge of navigation, they may not make it back to their hotel before sunrise. She was definitely not a homing pigeon in a previous life, Serena decides.

* * *

"We ran away from the police who had just arrested us?" Hanssen seeks to clarify, the confusion in his tone clear as well as something else that Serena can't place.

"Yes, we did. They gave chase and we hid in someone's garden." He remembers diving through the gate, shutting it and drawing Serena to him, both holding their breath as the policeman runs past, standing still in the cold garden for nearly twenty minutes, hoping that they will be able to escape.

"So we can add trespassing to our tally of crimes from last night," he observes before listing them on his fingers, "assault, resisting arrest, trespassing... is there anything we didn't do, Ms. Campbell?"

"Well," Serena snorts, obviously glad that he has kept a sense of humour about the revelations of the previous night, "I don't think anyone died." He stares at her in bemusement until he realises that she is joking and embarrassed, he looks away, trying to insert the screwdriver into the links in the cuffs.

"We then had to take a bit of a detour coming back," Serena comments, opening her bag of breakfast and pulling out a croissant. "I think you caught yourself on a fence – I didn't know you could swear so creatively, in fact, I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

"I never swore until I met you, Ms. Campbell," he informs her with a straight face.

"Liar," she accuses gently and he returns her smile until an odd feeling in his stomach forces him to shyly look away, out of the window, watching the rain drops which are starting to fall against the panes of glass.

"I suppose that explains the scratches on my back," Hanssen comments absent-mindedly, thinking back to this fence, feeling an odd sense of disappointment at the explanation, before mentally shaking himself aware that time continues to tick away until her presentation and they are both still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, both unshowered and most urgently, still handcuffed to one another.

"It's raining." Still looking at the window, he thinks out loud, information starting to fall into place, not realising that he'd spoken until Serena responds.

"If you don't have anything useful to say, Mr. Hanssen..." Hanssen stops his ministrations to the metal cuffs and looks at Serena, waiting until she has taken a mouthful of her croissant before idly commenting.

"Actually, I remember what happened which meant we ended up without any clothing this morning." As expected, Serena coughs badly and Hanssen quips, "please attempt to refrain from dropping too many crumbs on my bed, Ms. Campbell."

* * *

**One chapter to go, they're still cuffed to one another with time running out before Serena's presentation...! **

**Drop me a line, let me know what you thought :-)**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Sorry about the delay in posting this, I've been a bit unwell recently and not up to concentrating for more than about fifteen minutes at a time. **

**Anyway, here we are, the last chapter of this little tale; I hope you've all enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Yes it's been silly and utterly ridiculous in places but that was kind of the point. **

**Thank you all for you your feedback, your reviews and follows and favourites. So, without further ado – on with the show! Enjoy.**

* * *

"It's a bizarre but wonderful feeling to arrive dead centre of a target you didn't know you were aiming for."

Lois McMaster Bujold

* * *

"_Actually, I remember what happened last night which meant we ended up without any clothing this morning..."_

Hanssen responds to the glare Serena sends his way as she recovers from choking on her breakfast with an innocent expression but they both know his timing was deliberate.

"What?" She croaks, her words causing another bout of coughing and Hanssen patiently waits until she is done, offering no comfort, not trusting himself to pat her on the back as the memory of their return to the hotel last night replays itself.

"It rained last night," he states simply and he can see that Serena hasn't yet put the pieces together by her shrug. "Rather the heavens opened and by the time we made our return to the hospital, we were both soaked through."

"I see," Hanssen watches her face crease a little as she tries to recall the events, "actually, I do remember that – it was torrential!" She exclaims.

"Quite so." Hanssen agrees.

"That still doesn't explain why we woke up... as we did." Hanssen exhales, he'd rather hoped that Serena would put two and two together, rather than requiring him to guide her through his memory, step by step.

"We made the decision to return here as a result of Mr. Spence's likely absence in order to dry off."

"Right, so?"

"So?" Hanssen queries and exasperated, Serena huffs.

"That still doesn't explain how we ended up without our clothing this morning." Hanssen swallows and decides that the only way his embarrassment won't be obvious is if Serena is even more embarrassed and too distracted to notice.

"That was your doing, Ms. Campbell." Her head jerks up and Hanssen pulls back an inch or two to avoid a collision and looks into her startled brown eyes for the second time that day.

"How on earth-"

"If you'll allow me to explain?" He waits for a moment and when no interruption is forthcoming, he continues, his delivery reverting to a consultant informing a patient of some unpleasant news. "After entering this room, both of us were soaked from the rain and I do believe your exact words, Ms. Campbell, were, 'if we don't get these clothes off now, we'll both succumb to hypothermia'."

Hanssen keeps his tone even, fighting the urge to mimic her, knowing that she almost certainly would not appreciate his attempt at humour. He doesn't remind her of his reluctance to follow her suggestion and keeps his confusion at his own response to the woman stripping next to him to himself. Instead, Hanssen tells her how he had started looking for some of his spare clothing to offer the woman, until hers dry sufficiently.

"Not only did you become annoyed that I hadn't immediately followed your orders..." he pauses, debating with himself whether to say anything further and after a couple of heartbeats he makes his decision to continue. "You also informed me that you were a Doctor and as such _I_ didn't have anything _you_ hadn't already seen before." Although he isn't too comfortable recalling that, he is able to mask his embarrassment much more successfully than Serena.

"Please tell me I didn't say that." His lips quirk at the way the colour drains from her face.

"Indeed you did." He leans towards her, suddenly finding himself fed up with their interrupted kisses and wanting to correct that. "You couldn't remove my clothes quick enough, Ms. Campbell – a most welcome change to my usual conference experience, it must be said."

Hanssen can see that he's gone just too far with that teasing comment and Serena is about to explode. Damage limitation or distraction is in order and as Hanssen raises his cuffed, left hand to her jaw, Serena jerks her dominant right hand away, probably to slap him and with the aid of the screwdriver embedded in-between two of the chain links, the cuffs break and Serena stumbles at the sudden freedom, landing backwards onto the bed.

Also caught off-balance, Hanssen finds himself half-leaning over her, both of them staring at their newly-separated wrists for nearly a minute until he turns his focus back to the woman lying on his bed.

The movement of his head seems to be enough to remind her where she is and unexpectedly, she moves, immediately seeking to increase the physical distance between them and pulling her room key out of her pocket, Serena exits without looking back at him, leaving Hanssen staring at the now-closed door and feeling the biggest idiot in the world.

* * *

Stood under the hot spray of the shower, Serena can't help but think back to the scene in Hanssen's room as she left and she curses the rashness of her actions, realising belatedly that he was about to kiss her. Lightly knocking her head against the tiled wall of the shower, Serena is reminded of her frustration at their aborted kisses this morning and last night.

Washing shampoo out of her hair, Serena remembers how they'd been stood together in the darkest corner of someone's garden, hiding from the policeman who'd given chase as they'd made their bid for freedom. After an indeterminably long period of time, they'd plucked up the courage to leave the relative safety of the garden, heading back out into the housing estate.

"_You cannot be serious! This only happens in films and really shit films at that!"_

She'd cursed out loud when the heavy rain had begun, soaking them both in minutes and by the time they got back to Hanssen's room, they were drenched, looking like drowned rats, remembering how Hanssen's soaked-through dress shirt revealed just how thin he was and groaning she recalls her completely innocent comments about their risks of hypothermia. She still doesn't know what happened to her own shirt to tear it and in her mind, she apportions the blame to Hanssen, whether he deserves it or not.

Worrying that she's been stood under the hot water for too long, Serena jumps out. She'd missed lunch but finds that after Hanssen's revelations, she has rather lost her appetite.

Stepping out of the bathroom, dressed in clean clothes, showered and feeling much more relaxed, Serena combs her hair with one hand and uses her other to put her dirty clothes into her holdall, ready to sort them out later. She's glad to be wearing a shirt that isn't held together by a couple of safety pins that she'd found in Hanssen's room.

Jac Naylor had been in the room when Serena had made her way back into the room and the Executive Director of Surgery's arrival hadn't prompted anything more than a grunt from the CT consultant to Serena's relief and she had been able to dive into the shower, turning the water as hot as she could stand it in a futile attempt to banish the memory of a naked Henrik Hanssen lying next to her in bed which had been haunting her at ever-increasingly regular intervals since this morning.

"Focus." She tells herself, reminding her that she only has forty-five minutes until her presentation is due to start. Spotting that Jac had left and that the room is temporarily hers, Serena makes her way to the bed and spreads her notes out, going through some last-minute preparation for her talk about internal patient referrals and mortality rates.

Serena slips into the room she'll be presenting to a few minutes before the start of the Q&A session of the previous presentation, making herself known to one of the organisers, belatedly realising that it was the same lady that she and Hanssen had glared at this morning.

As the session chairman introduces her, Serena forces herself to put the Swede from her mind and focus on the reasonable-sized crowd staring up at her; she can spot Michael and Jac and refuses to acknowledge the slight sting of disappointment at Hanssen's no-show.

Despite the way her day had started, Serena's quick shower and last-minute preparation has aided to regain her composure and she slips back into the confident and slightly flirtatious persona she uses at work and she charms the audience, not noticing when Hanssen slips in at the back for the last ten minutes, his own meeting concluded.

"What gives?" Serena met Michael and Jac after the end of the day's presentations and the three of them head to an early dinner. The American voices his surprise when Serena orders a soft drink.

"Trying to cut down," she comments, hoping to sound casual and desperately trying not to blush at the memory of the circumstance which led to her making the promise only several hours ago. If it wasn't for the metal band still on her wrist, she'd have dismissed it all as some alcohol-induced dream.

"Who cares?" Jac interjects and steers the conversation back to a presentation that she'd seen just before lunch. Serena's odd sense of disappointment continues when Hanssen doesn't show up to dinner.

"He's grumbling about something or other," Michael answers Jac's question about Hanssen's no-show, "perched on the end of his bed, still in his tie and jacket." The American shrugs, obviously confused by Hanssen's refusal to take advantage of a relaxation of the usual formal work wear.

"Of course he's in a suit and tie," Jac comments, "apart from scrubs, when does he ever wear anything else?"Aware that Michael is giving her an odd look, Serena takes a quick sip of her now-warm orange juice and steers the conversation back towards him.

"You might have known Michael, if you had ever made it back to your room last night." She smirks when he coughs, he'd just taken a mouthful of beer when she'd lightly commented.

"How did you know Michael wasn't in his room last night?" Jac asks her and suddenly the only thing that Serena's brain can supply in response is, 'oh shit'. Thankfully she is rescued by an unknowing Michael.

"She was chatting with Hanssen when I staggered in this morning after a most enjoyable night of-" He starts to smirk and Serena doesn't want to know _what_ has caused that reaction and judging by Jac's equally disgusted expression, she doesn't either and is quick to say so before he can finish his sentence. Thankfully the topic of conversation moves on again and Serena relaxes a little.

"You and the big H were stood quite close this morning," Jac comments, searching through her bag for something. After a lengthy dinner, the two women had gone back to their room, citing an early night, leaving Michael at the hotel bar.

"When?" Glad that Jac's attention is elsewhere, Serena racks her brain for any possible excuses that she can use for whatever Jac has spotted whilst trying not to let her see the way she feels a little sick.

"This morning, in the foyer." She exhales in relief.

"I'm not surprised," she drawls. "It was packed. I expected a tad few more sore heads this morning to be perfectly honest. Obviously your presentation was worth ignoring a hangover for." Serena offers a compliment to Jac's ego in an attempt to distract the other woman and is relieved when it works. Effectively ending Jac's inquiries, Serena promptly sticks her nose back into the book she'd been reading.

"I hope you don't mind sharing the room with me tonight?"

"Excuse me?" Serena tenses, certain that Jac is toying with her.

"Well, I didn't make it back last night." Jac smirks. "Obviously."

"Oh right," Serena's mind is whirring at the news and the implications. "I err, did wonder..." Serena can't help but think that there must be something in the Manchester water which affects Holby staff; Jac, Michael and herself never made it to their own rooms last night and of the four of them, only Hanssen was in the correct bed but he ended up naked and handcuffed to Serena.

There's a knock at the door and Jac being closer, sighs and answers it. From her position on the bed, Serena can't see who is at the door but Jac's terse greeting carries clearly enough.

"Give it to her yourself, I'm not your delivery girl." Serena hears the door shut and frowning at the odd turn of events, she raises an eyebrow when Jac reappears a moment later. "Hanssen's here to speak to you. I'm having a shower."

Serena nods, she'd wondered how on earth she and the Swede are going to act around one another in the future without blushing as they recall a memory or just attacking the other. They had always been at each other's throats, he acts like a child, being mean to her and she him. Perhaps the emotions had been there but they just needed a push; she wryly observes that if there wasn't an attraction after the situation they found themselves in yesterday morning, then there is something wrong with both of them.

Realising that she is unable to hide under the bed and put off her first interaction with Hanssen since she bolted from his room around lunchtime, Serena gets up and moves towards the door before he decides to step further into the room.

"You left this earlier." He holds out Serena's long cardigan which she'd discarded in Hanssen's room when they'd returned after Jac's presentation.

"Thank you" Serena fiddles with a button, giving her hands something to do, trying not to betray her uncertainty. He glances towards the bathroom door and Serena realises he's waiting for the shower before he speaks again.

"I should apologise, Ms. Campbell." Serena opens her mouth to respond but closes it when she realises what he's said, he's surprised her. "For the situation we woke up in this morning, my actions were-"

"Stop." Any other time Serena would be amused by the audible click as his mouth snaps shut. "Whilst I am no expert, I should imagine that waking up naked, handcuffed to an equally naked woman is probably more than an acceptable a reason for any _actions_." She is glad to see that her light words cause a visible relaxation in the Swede in front of her and she relaxes in turn.

"And I didn't exactly put up any kind of resistance." She comments to herself but just loud enough for Hanssen to hear. "But thank you anyway." Rising up onto the balls of her feet, Serena kisses his cheek.

She pulls back about two inches from him and pauses for a heartbeat before they both move and their lips clash. One kiss quickly becomes two and more until Serena is aware that the sound of Jac's shower has stopped and reluctantly she pushes against Hanssen's chest and pulls back, indicating the bathroom. Thankfully Hanssen understands quickly and she straightens his tie and jacket, running a quick hand through her own hair.

By the time that Jac exits the bathroom, Serena is back on her bed, the place she was before Hanssen knocked on door, with her head buried in a book. She'd had just enough presence of mind to make sure it wasn't upside down but she hasn't turned a page since she picked it up.

* * *

"Right I'm off," Ric tells her and Serena absent-mindedly wishes him a good night as she stares at her computer screen at the report she is meant to be finishing off for Hanssen and the board but finds herself staring into space instead. "You should go too, Serena, you look exhausted."

She mutters something in response, replying on autopilot, her mind still on the Swede as she considers the events of the conference; how they escaped the welcoming party, their dinner, their arrest, their return to the hotel, waking up next to Hanssen, their tense morning, her presentation, his late-night visit to her room. If it wasn't for the metal binding around her wrist that was currently sat in her desk drawer, Serena would almost have swore that she'd dreamt the whole thing.

'Confused isn't the word for it', she tells herself not having any idea what to do, still conflicted. Part of her is still on cloud nine, doing a strange little dance at having finally kissed and been kissed by Hanssen; the rest of her is having a fit for her apparently convenient ability to forget what happened the last time she kissed a colleague – she married him, she can't forget how that turned out.

She hears low voices from the doorway and attributes it to background noise from the ward and only when she returns Ric's final, "goodnight," from the doorway does she look up to see that even when her colleague has gone she isn't alone in the office.

He silently shifts his balance from foot to foot, an almost nervous gesture that Serena suspects no-one else would notice and it's obvious that both of them are uncertain of quite what to say, considering the events they shared at the conference and the tumultuous maelstrom of emotions and feelings that accompanied those hours.

"Mr. Hanssen?" When there is no explanation for his presence after nearly a minute, she prompts him and she watches him open his mouth and close it twice before he finally finds his voice. It's taken them nearly two days since their return to have any face-to-face communication, the few emails they'd swapped had been short and to-the-point. Not usually one to back down from interactions with another, Serena is nonetheless equal parts glad and uneasy that Hanssen has made the decision to speak to her.

"I was wondering, Ms. Campbell, if I could persuade you to have dinner with me?" He finally asks, almost tripping over his own tongue in an attempt to get the words out. Serena smirks as a mischievous thought crosses her mind.

"I see to remember waking up the next morning with both of us somewhat worse for wear the last time I had dinner with you." She drawls, his expression is completely blank and Serena takes pity on the nervous man, offering a smile she asks lightly, her tone flirtatious, "what _are_ the odds of it happening again?"

Hanssen smiles at her as her words and tone register, his relief palpable and Serena finds that she wants to see that more often, he looks completely different when he smiles, appearing confident once more. "The odds are whatever you would find acceptable, Ms. Campbell."

"Hmmm," she pretends to think about his answer, using the time to make sure she has her phone, keys and wallet, not needing anything else, Eleanor is busy revising and won't miss her until late and so she stands up, picking up her coat.

"Well, in that case, I'm all yours." She glides out of the office, waiting for him to catch up.

**The End?**

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